


A Love Story

by scandalsavage



Series: Gods Among Us [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Discussed STI/STD, Identity Porn, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Snowballing, The god of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-03-17 18:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: A glimpse at the relationship between Nightwing's 'human' alter-ego, Dick, and Jason Todd.Set just before the start of We're All the Gods' Playthings (it probably doesn't matter if you haven't read it... you'll just catch a few things if you have).





	1. Jason

**Author's Note:**

> After reading a few comments both here and on tumblr, I decided that before I move forward with the next chapter of WAtGP, it would be a good idea to show a bit of the relationship between Jason and Dick. 
> 
> I spent all this time writing this one-shot only to realize now, as I'm writing this note, that I should have told this from Nightwing/Dick's POV and I'm fucking kicking myself. If I can carve out the time I'll try to add a second chapter that shows you his perspective.
> 
> In the meantime, please take what Dick says here as truth. He's not manipulating or toying with Jason, everything he says is meant honestly. The only places he lies are when he has to cover the fact that he's a god and it's mostly just twisting the truth into something that fits human parameters.

_I’m in trouble. Not… I guess not real trouble. Just… if you’re listening, if that’s something you still do… you know how far I’ve come. You know how I’ve struggled to mold my anger into love, my need for vengeance into forgiveness. But the war is… the war is bringing it all back. It’s more and more difficult to just help the injured and not want to hurt those responsible. It’s harder and harder to not get swept up in the fight… the rage and the pain of it all. Nightwing… if you can hear me… please. Help me find the strength to resist the temptation._

In the Temple of Nightwing, sitting on a comfortable cushion, face covered by his hands, Jason prays for guidance. He had known the war would be a miserable situation. He is realist, he knows there is nothing glorious or romantic about killing each other. He didn’t go to be a hero. Perhaps he was still naïve, thinking that he was protecting people, going to war to do his part to stop horrible things from happening. But this war felt… big. Like, fighting for the collective soul of the human race kind of big.

 

There may still be a lot of gray area, but one side was definitely a darker shade than the other. And he knows it’s not the same thing, not even close, but he feels his own internal darkness deepening the longer he stays here. When he picked up that gun to defend a fallen comrade from encroaching enemy soldiers, it had felt _good_ to fight again. More than that, it felt right.

 

A warm, comforting weight settles on Jason’s shoulder, moments after his prayers end, jolting him out of his reverie.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you,” the stranger says, voice mellifluous and honey-smooth. His smile is sincere and blinding, framed by dimples and reaching all the way to navy-blue eyes, tranquil and inviting as the deep, calm waters they mimic. Midnight hair hangs in loose locks on either side of a face too handsome to possibly be real.

 

Jason is too taken aback to answer. This is the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until his body forces him to sharply suck in some air.

 

“Are you all right?” The man asks, dragging the hand on Jason’s shoulder to rub at his back, expression softening in concern.

 

“Oh, uh, yeah… sorry. Just lost in my own thoughts.” He’s proud that it comes out sounding firmer than he feels. Even if he did stammer through the words, at least it didn’t come out as breathy and awed as expected.

 

“Do you get lost a lot?”

 

The man flashes perfect, straight white teeth and it’s contagious so Jason smiles back. “Some might say too much. My dad says I spend so much time in my head it must be a maze,” he laughs.

 

“Hmm. Do you want to be rescued?”

 

For a second, Jason just hears the music in the man’s hum. He blinks in confusion when he registers the question. “Huh?”

 

The temple is dim, lit only by pretty paper lanterns in pinks and blues and naked wax candles. But even in the low light, it’s hard to miss the twinkle of mischief in the other man’s eyes.

 

“I can help you get out of your head,” the man says smoothly, lip quirking when Jason gulps. “If you’re interested.”

 

Jason just stares up at him, slack-jawed, brain processing through all the possibilities. Is he being propositioned? It certainly feels like it. But there’s no way a man like this, a man this beautiful, could be interested in _Jason_ that way. Not to be blasphemous but… if there was a human on the planet who could give the god of love a run for his money, it’s this one.

 

“I’m Dick,” the man smiles at him, reaching out to offer Jason a hand up, “There’s a great little café a couple blocks away. I’ll buy you a coffee if you tell me your name and what’s on your mind.”

 

“Oh. That sounds… that sounds nice,” Jason replies, taking the offered hand. Where most people would take a step back, Dick doesn’t move. So Jason ends up practically in his arms, very aware of the way their chests are touching and the dark gleam of something more than just friendly consideration in the depths of those deep blue oceans.

 

Dick doesn’t let go, keeps his grip on Jason’s forearm and smiles as they stare into each other’s eyes.

 

Finally, after several long moments of drowning in that gaze, basking in the heat of the too close stranger, he realizes what Dick is waiting so patiently for.

 

“Jason,” he murmurs breathlessly, unable to stop himself from leaning in and breathing deep. Dick smells exactly like Alfred’s fresh baked snickerdoodle cookies; cinnamon and sugar and soft warm fluffy dough. “My… my name is Jason.”

 

Dick grins and finally steps away. “It is absolutely my pleasure meeting you Jason.”

 

Three hours later Jason, usually not one to open up to random people, has over-shared, told Dick his whole life’s story, and, despite usually preferring to move slowly and purposefully, finds himself stumbling through the door of Dick’s apartment, hands and mouths desperately exploring every hot, aching inch of the other’s body as they tumble into a huge bed.

 

He wakes up to Dick bringing him breakfast in that bed; chocolate croissants, strawberries, pomegranate juice, and espresso. They eat for bit, talk more, then the tray and the fortunately empty dishes, crash to the floor as Dick pushes his knees to his chest and fucks him again.

 

It’s only a week before Dick says he loves him. And only a second longer when Jason says it back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Being with Dick is so easy and so relaxing that it never once seems weird, even when he thinks about it directly, that Jason spends every day for the next two months joined at the hip with the other man. And Dick seems just as happy to be around him as much as possible.

 

Dick sits patiently in the waiting room while Jason attends his physical therapy sessions, charming the staff and easily making friends. Dick sits on the dryer, happily chatting away, while Jason does laundry, even though it never seems like Dick has any. Dick pretends to read while Jason does but watches him lovingly until Jason rolls his eyes. Then Dick rubs his feet and calves until he dozes off, tucks him into a blanket, and whispers how beautiful he is when he thinks he won’t hear.

 

Dick coos, wide eyed and adorably exuberant at the drugstore, marveling at the shampoo and deodorant Jason buys; looks confused when Jason stops, halfway down the aisle and timidly asks if they should be using condoms.

 

“It’s probably too late for the main purpose,” Jason starts, grabbing a pack of ultra-ribbed magnums, wondering briefly if they’ll be big enough for Dick, and shivers as warmth pools low at the thought, “but could be fun in—“

 

“What is the main purpose?”

 

Jason blinks at him as he takes down a box with temperature changing lube and starts examining the packaging. Feels the tips of his ears and his cheeks get hot when he realizes Dick is serious.

 

“Uh… they’re… you put them on your… uh…” Dick raises his eyebrows, a small, amused smile growing on his lips, as Jason stutters his way to an explanation. “Hoo boy, ok. They’re little—or not so little—latex… sleeves that cover your… your penis and catch the release.”

 

Dick looks a fascinating combination of amused, confused, and a little scandalized at the notion, which kind of makes Jason want to laugh.

 

“Why?”

 

“Dickie, come on… you really don’t know what condoms are for?”

 

“I don’t understand why you’d want to do that. It’s the best part,” Dick replies seriously, replacing the box on the hook and moving into Jason’s space. He curls his fingers into the belt loops on Jason’s khakis and pulls him close. “I love having something of you left inside me. And I love filling you up, leaving some of me inside you. There’s nothing more intimate, don’t you think? Two people can’t get any closer than that.”

 

His mouth has gone completely dry, the flush that had started in his ears and cheeks spreads quickly down his neck and chest. He has the intense urge to rip Dick’s clothes off as the man leans in and mouths gently at his neck.

 

“Some—sometimes people get… sick…”

 

Abruptly Dick pulls off of him. The look on his face is horrified, like this is the most devastating news he has ever heard.

 

“From sex?!”

 

Jason shakes his head a little to clear the fog of lust he always feels when Dick touches him. “Well, from the exchange of bodily fluids. Hence the condom.”

 

“So, you can’t make love without risking your health?!”

 

Jason suddenly feels a little ill. Pretty much the only times they’re not fucking is when they’re in public, and even then… memories of the picnic blanket in the park, the club bathroom, the quiet dusty stacks of a forgotten corner of the library, flash through his mind.

 

Point is, they’ve been all over each other for weeks. Jason is a doctor and he’s never thought to ask?

 

“I’m clean, if that’s what’s freaking you out,” he says, heat rising for an entirely different reason now; because that doesn’t seem to be what’s making Dick uneasy and the other man’s obvious ignorance on the issue is making Jason feel like he’s taken advantage of him somehow.

 

“What?” Dick asks, drawn out of his horrified shock at the tremble in Jason’s voice. “No! Gods no, babe. I’m not worried about that.”

 

“You’re not?” Jason replies, incredulous. “You’re a grown ass man and you’re telling me you didn’t know any of this? You should be worried about it. In fact, we should go to the clinic right now. This is nothing to mess around with, Dickie.”

 

“Wait. Slow down.” He’s calmer now, as he takes Jason’s hands. “Look, I’m not sick, ok? I promise, you’re not getting anything from me. I’ll go get checked if you want but I swear, you don’t have to worry.”

 

“You don’t know that. And, frankly, given your reaction and lack of basic knowledge on the subject, I really think it’s for the best if we get checked out…”

 

“Jason,” Dick hums quietly, “I know I’m all right. I’ve only been with one other… person. And we were… we were each other’s firsts.”

 

“Oh...” Jason mutters, looking down at his feet, feeling like an asshole even though he knows, logically, all his reactions were perfectly justified.

 

“You were worried about me.” Dick’s smiling at him when he looks back up, and gives his hands a squeeze. “That’s really sweet. No one’s ever really been worried about me before.”

 

His heart breaks at those words. “That’s… the saddest thing you’ve ever said.”

 

Jason pulls Dick closer and wraps his arms around him, hugging tightly.

 

“Oh, little wing. I didn’t say no one’s ever loved me. I just said no one has ever worried. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

 

They part and Dick, grinning impishly, grips either side of the sweater Jason is wearing. “Now, Doctor. Let’s get out of here and you can give me a physical.”

 

Leaving the condoms behind, they check out at the register with just the toiletries. Maybe Jason should have insisted but he trusts Dick. One hundred percent. And he still really wants to rip Dick’s clothes off.

 

“Why ‘little wing’?” He questions when they’re in the car, half-way back to Dick’s apartment, referring to what appears to be his new nickname.

 

“I found you in Nightwing’s temple. You’re so loving and considerate. You’re as close to him as a human can get,” He replies like it’s obvious. But the grin Dick levels at him from the passenger seat is wide and wicked and Jason can’t help but think maybe there is more to it than that.

 

Dick reaches over, twirling Jason’s curls around his fingers, and his smile softens, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

 

“I know this is all so sudden,” Dick hums, “But these past weeks, this time with you, it’s been so… gods, Jay, there isn’t a good enough word but… incredible. When I’m with you, for the first time in ages, I feel like myself again. It’s fast, I know, but I love you so much already. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

 

Stopping at a light, Jason leans into the warm touch of Dick’s palm. “I love you too, Dickie. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have met you.”

 

“Hmm. I don’t think luck has much to do with it, babe. You and me? This is fate.”  


 

* * *

 

  
  
“You should just quit.”

 

Laughing, Jason grabs the stack of clothes Dick keeps taking out of his suitcase and “hiding” behind the armchair or under the coffee table. Then slaps his hand away when he comes around the sofa to try again.

 

“The army isn’t the kind of job you can just quit whenever you want.”

 

No matter how much he wants to now. Tomorrow he ships out, back to the front. Back to the blood. Back to the pain. Back to the fighting.

 

A very small part of him, a part he’s actively trying to stomp on, looks forward to it. When life boils down to survive or die things get simple. There’s a very specific kind of calm, acceptance, and clarity that comes with life on the front.

 

“I know,” Dick says sadly, “My ex is a soldier too.”

 

Jason freezes mid motion, letting the lid of the suitcase fall the remaining distance to thud shut. Dick doesn’t really talk about himself or his past much.

 

“Guess I have a type,” he adds jokily.

 

“Well… I’m not _really_ a soldier.”

 

“Semantics.”

 

Jason turns away from the bench his suitcase is sitting on and leaps at Dick, tackling him to the couch. They wrestle playfully for a minute before falling back against the armrest. Jason cuddles close. Dick nuzzles closer.

 

“If I’d met you first, I wouldn’t have enlisted,” Jason mumbles into Dick’s hair.

 

“Yes you would have,” Dick mopes, playing with the string of Jason’s sweats. “You would have still been drawn to the war. Just like him.”

 

He doesn’t argue. Just strokes Dick’s soft, perfect hair. Because he’s right, and Jason knows it. He’s also glad that Dick seems to finally be willing to open up. He just wishes it wasn’t about his ex.

 

“Sorry,” Dick mutters, looking away, “You’re not the same. He always brought the fighting home. You leave it where it belongs. Anyway, I shouldn’t talk about him.”

 

Stomping on the flare of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, Jason reaches out to lie his hand over Dick’s. “You should. If you want to.”

 

Dick just smiles at him like he’s not sure Jason really means it.

 

“How long were you together?”

 

“All our lives,” Dick replies, returning his gaze to Jason’s.

 

“Childhood sweethearts?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“How long has it been since it ended?” Jason feels a little bad asking such a selfish question when he should be focused on being supportive. But… he’s _really_ hoping he’s not the rebound guy.

 

“Day I met you,” Dick answers, flashing his brilliant smile. And Jason knows that sometimes Dick’s a little clueless, a little too happy and excited about mundane things, a little… out of touch, so even though the flirty words would likely be a joke from someone else, Jason can’t help the pinch in his chest that suggests there is too much truth in the statement.

 

“Sorry,” Dick repeats, flirty smile softening, sincerity flooding out of him, “I just meant… it seems like it ended when I meant you. That relationship has just dogged me for decades. We fought against it as long as we could but it’s been really bad for the last thirty years or so. When I found you, it felt like I could breathe again.”

 

Jason narrows his eyes, certain he misunderstood. “Decades? Thirty years? You’re only like 34…”

 

Dick blinks at him for a moment before laughing brightly. “I did say that. It just feels like that sometimes, you know. ‘Decades’ was an exaggeration. Guess it was still on my mind when I said thirty. I meant three. It was really bad for the last three years.”

 

Smirking, Dick tugs Jason up with him as he stands. Then he starts to stalk forward, forcing Jason to walk backwards down the hall, toward the bedroom, with a hand sliding gently across Jason’s chest and abdominals. “Point is, it was over before it was _over_ , you know? And long before you and I came together.”

 

The warm flush of arousal quickly overwhelms the cool rush of relief, as Dick spins him around, still shuffling him toward to the bedroom, wraps his arms around him and slips one hand down Jason’s sweats to stroke at his cock and the other up under his shirt to pinch and pull at his nipple. Dick’s mouth is hot and hungry at his throat. Jason lets his head fall back onto the other man’s shoulder to give him better access.

 

He moans when Dick scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin below his ear and forgets what they had been talking about completely when he whispers, “I’m going to make you scream my name so loud your neighbors will be banging on your door to make sure you’re all right; fuck you so hard you’ll feel me the whole time you’re gone.”

 

There’s a flutter of sadness in Jason’s heart at the reminder he has to return to the front tomorrow. It’s slight, beneath blissful sensations of Dick’s touch, but it’s enough. “That could be awhile—”

 

Dick spares a moment to tear Jason’s shirt over his head as they reach the bedroom and when he’s back Jason sighs in contentment at being able to feel the smooth, flawless bronzed skin of Dick’s chest pressing against his spine.

 

“I’ll wait for you, little wing, don’t worry,” Dick hums into his ear, twisting his fist expertly around Jason’s cock, pulling a desperate moan from his parted lips, “And until then, I promise I’ll visit you in your dreams.”

 

He feels the sly smirk against his neck and can’t help but throw out a quick, _Oh, fuck, Nightwing, please… please let that be truth,_ as Dick shoves him face first, onto the bed.

 

When Jason turns back around to gaze up at that perfect face, he finds Dick peering down at him, expression open and adoring, smile small and loving.

 

Dick wraps his hands under Jason’s calves and tugs him back to the edge of the bed, crowds close, and takes Jason’s face in in his palms, tilting him up to meet his gaze.

 

“I love you, Jason. I’d do anything for you. _That’s_ the truth,” Dicks murmurs sensually, punctuating each sentence with a deep, possessive kiss.

 

Jason shivers at how the phrasing matches his prayer. It feels so intimate for his thoughts and Dick’s words to sync. He’s still amazed that someone like Dick would want someone like him in the first place, let alone admit to being in love with him after only a couple months; amazed that Dick said it first. But, as usual, he doesn’t get long to dwell on it, despite how warm and nearly complete it makes him feel.

 

Dick drops to his knees in front of him. Starts at his ankle and presses wet kisses to Jason’s overheated skin on the way up his leg, sucking and biting marks to the inside of this thigh before flicking the tip of his tongue over the tip of Jason’s dick playfully.

 

Gasping, Jason throws his head back, closing his eyes and tangling his fingers in Dick’s perfect hair as those perfect lips wrap around him and that perfect mouth takes him to the root. The perfect tongue swirling in the perfect way.

 

Gods, how is Dick even real? How did Jason get so lucky? It’s not the first time he’s thought it, and it likely won’t be the last.

 

He unravels so easily for Dick it’d be embarrassing if the other man didn’t seem to take immense pleasure in getting Jason off so quickly. Like he’s proud of his skills.

 

And he should be.

 

Jason shouts and comes as Dick pushes two slick fingers into him and immediately grinds them into his prostate. He collapses, boneless, back onto the mattress, bouncing slightly. Dick chuckles and starts kissing his way up his body, sending a tingle of electricity from each spot straight to his heart.

 

Then Dick is back in sight, crooked smirk spelling trouble as he presses his pillowy lips back to Jason’s. Only when Jason opens his mouth, granting Dick entrance, the other man lets something pour onto his tongue instead of kissing him.

 

Groaning needily at the taste of his own come, Jason twists the fingers of one hand into Dick’s raven strands, scrapes the other down his back, and makes a show of swallowing.

 

Dick growls and doesn’t waste another moment. He grabs Jason’s hips and pushes into him without preamble and _holy shit_ it’s almost like Dick’s cock is larger than ever before.

 

Jason feels stretched to the limit, every available space inside him filled. All he can feel, all he can think about, his whole world is Dick.

 

And his dick.

 

His giggle at the joke in his head turns into a sharp shout as Dick pulls nearly all the way out, slams back in, and repeats.

 

Wrapping his legs around the waist above him while Dick leans forward and threads his arms under Jason’s, they cling to each other. All too aware that it will be at least six months before Jason will be able to visit. And even then, only for a couple of days.

 

“You’re so fucking amazing, little wing,” Dick growls, “I’m never letting you go, baby. Never. You’re mine.”

 

“ _Yours_ ,” Jason shouts in agreement as Dick rubs against his prostate on every small movement. He bites Dick’s ear, hard, which gets him a bite on his throat. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

 

“ _Yes!_ I’m yours.”

 

Jason comes again, screaming Dick’s name.

 

And when Dick clutches Jason tightly, the familiar warm gush of his seed filling him up, Jason agrees that this is as close two people can get. That this is as intimate as they can be.

 

Tears sting Jason’s eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time Dick made him cry in pleasure. And maybe it’s a little bit of that.

 

But mostly, it’s the idea that tonight is the last time they’ll be together for a long while and Jason’s heart physically aches at the inevitability of being so far away for such an extended period.

 

Dick holds him, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“Shh, Jay, it’s all right,” he purrs pleasantly into Jason’s scalp, “I’ll always be with you, ok? And I’ll be here when you come back. I love you. And no war will change that.”

 

Shuddering, Jason snuggles into Dick’s warm skin. Twenty minutes later though, he nudges the other man onto his back and crawls on top of him.

 

“I don’t want to waste a second of the time we have left,” he breathes, taking Dick’s cock in hand and lowering himself onto it. “Make love to me, Dickie. For as long as you can.”

 

Leaning up, Dick kisses him, deep and slow. Without opening his eyes, Jason can feel the happy smile on Dick’s lips when he pulls off just far enough to mutter, “Whatever you want, little wing.”

 

 _All I want is you_ , Jason thinks. Even though he knows, deep in his soul, that that’s not quite true.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Somehow, whether Nightwing had anything to do with it or not, Dick does appear in Jason’s dreams.

 

Every night when he drifts off, he is greeted by that cheerful, brilliant smile and deep pools of dark blue. To the point where Jason finds himself anticipating lights out more than anything else. Even if he often wakes with an embarrassing wet spot spread across the crotch of his sweats.

 

Often, but not always. Sometimes the dreams are delightfully mundane. They cook or read or play a game. Dick fusses over him; showers him with admiration and compliments.

 

They write, too. And sometimes there will be a phrase or reference that makes Jason think Dick is having similar dreams featuring him. The thought makes him close his eyes and take deep, happy breaths.

 

When they finally see each other again for the first time in months, it’s like all that time apart just melts away. They pick up where they left off so easily it’s like they were never separated by hundreds of miles and a war.

 

The second separation is shorter, only a couple of months, and they get a full week instead of just a couple of days, as the raging wildfires of decades of battle turn to smoldering embers of tenuous armistices.

 

Their visits become more frequent as it starts to look like the war that has consumed the planet for most of his life will come to an end. The peace may be fragile but it’s farther than they’ve ever come before.

 

Curled up in Dick’s arms, imaging what it will be like to build a life together in Gotham, Jason can’t help but thank the gods of love and war for their impeccable timing.


	2. Nightwing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing/Dick's POV
> 
> This was a bitch to write for some reason.

Spring is Nightwing’s favorite season. Evenings are still cool enough that people get close, huddle and snuggle up but not so cold enough to stop them going out for romantic strolls. Nice enough to sit outside, with a candle between them, maybe lightly brush their partners calf under the table but chilly enough to justify a fire in the hearth and maybe, just to embrace one of his favorite clichés, a bearskin rug to make love on.

He doesn’t often move amongst the mortals anymore. But he makes a single exception for the spring, to lean against a wall, sipping on bhang, and watch entire populations dance and frolic in streets, bright colors thrown every which way, covering the people, the ground, the building facades, as the humans celebrate forgiveness and love and new beginnings.

And if it hadn’t been his favorite time of year before, it certainly was now.

His drink spills over the lip of his cup as he jerks upright. The light pressure in his chest and the soft, clear muttering that manages to rise just above the quiet, constant buzz of prayers, that has accompanied it for the better part of a decade is suddenly sharp and prominent in his mind.

That voice has been silent for so long, Nightwing had kind of started to assume the person it belonged to had died. But now it’s back, louder than ever. Distinct enough he can hear the words, even without focusing on them specifically.  

_Nightwing… if you can hear me… please…_

The location lights up in his mind. His temple, a continent away.

With a thought, Nightwing is walking past plush floor cushions and paper lanterns casting pleasant multi-colored glows through the darkness.

The pressure in his chest increases as he approaches the man sitting with his head in his hands. _Jason_ the name echoes in his mind. He likes the way sounds. Like a song stuck in his head.

_Help me find the strength to resist the temptation._

It’s been so long since Nightwing has touched a human, he had forgotten warm and soft they were. The moment the skin on the pad of his finger lightly grazes the exposed flesh of Jason’s neck he feels something settle in him.

Resolve, he thinks, as piercing cyan eyes meet his own. The human’s breath catches, as it often does when humans see him, but this time Nightwing is just as enthralled. There is a slight blush on those perfect cheek bones, perfect lips parted, pretty brilliant blue-green irises consumed by widening pupils under perfect thick, black lashes.

Jason is easily the most attractive human he’s ever seen. He feels a twinge of guilt and confusion when he finds himself struggling to decide who’s more beautiful, Deathstroke or this mortal staring up at him.

Nightwing has always liked the name ‘Richard’. He’s used that, and variations of it in the past when interacting with humans. But if feels too formal to introduce himself that way to someone he has such a… connection with.

Smiling at his own, internal joke, he tells the mortal his name is Dick, gets Jason to introduce himself so he doesn’t have to keep pretending to not know his name, and takes him for a warm, soothing drink.

They talk for hours. Or rather, Nightwing steers the conversation so that Jason talks for hours. His voice is the sweetest music and Nightwing half expects forest animals to come whisk away their dishes.

With every new thing he learns about Jason’s less than ideal childhood, his complicated adolescence, and his conflicted feelings about the war and his place in it, Nightwing falls a little more; a little faster; a little harder. It’s knocking the wind out of him. It’s the oddest, most amazing feeling he’s ever experienced… one he didn’t think he’d ever get to experience again, not personally anyway.

He’s so busy being caught up in the mortal’s every word, so busy intently focusing on every muscle twitch, so busy subconsciously cataloging what things make him smile, what things make him laugh, that Nightwing forgets to flirt.

Since he isn’t even trying to seduce Jason, he’s surprised when the man invites him over.

“The base is across town but—“

“Mine’s closer,” he interrupts, and it didn’t matter where Jason’s place was, Nightwing’s was going to be closer. He’s suddenly itching for more of that feeling from earlier, when their skin touched.

He has Jason out of his clothes and laid out his giant bed within moments of entering ‘his apartment’. He’s even more astonishingly gorgeous without all that man-made stuff covering him, all those extra layers of fabric that humans put on themselves even when they’re not cold.

It starts with Jason on his back, Nightwing making himself comfortable between perfect, muscular thighs, but soon, to his pleased surprised, Jason twists, flipping them. He coaxes Nightwing to sit up, shoves their mouths back together, and rolls his hips down.

Nightwing holds onto him tightly as Jason sets the pace, admiring the curve of that fragile throat when his head drops back in ecstasy. He wishes Jason would open his eyes, he loves the color, but he can be satisfied with the way pink lips part and pant.

Jason increases in tempo and vigor as he goes. Nightwing helps lift him up and pull him down, meeting Jason’s movements and savoring every muttered sound that slips into the narrow, hot space between them, until they gasp simultaneously and come at the same moment.

He keeps Jason in his arms all night, listens to his heartbeat and tries to piece together why _this_ mortal has him thinking about strawberries and coffee and lazy Sunday mornings and evenings curled up on the couch.

In the past, his trysts with humans have been fleeting. A night or day here and there. Maybe two. And he can’t say for certain that he’s _never_ fed any of his lovers but if he has this is different. He runs to the bakery on the corner, the market across the street. When he realizes he doesn’t have coffee he magics up some espresso and turns a frown on all the other things that he could have called into existence but went out of his way to physically get without thinking.

That’s a little weird but he shrugs it off and returns to the bedroom with his offering.

Jason seems surprised but delighted and Nightwing watches, smiling at the way Jason starts to gush about Gotham after Nightwing mentions his father lives there.

He grins wider, when Jason, picking at the last of the croissant, finally realizes he’s been staring.

Nightwing loves the rosy blush of color that rises in the human’s cheeks, the way his pretty eyes can’t meet the god’s.

“What are you looking at?” Jason asks.

“The way you chew is cute,” he responds matter of factly, watching the blush spread down the human’s chest.

“The way I… chew?”

“Well. Not _just_ the way you chew,” Nightwing hums, inching closer, sliding his hand up Jason’s thigh. “Kind of everything about you. You’re smart and sweet and dangerous and beautiful.”

He punctuates every compliment with a kiss, enjoying the sound of Jason’s breath hitching when he ends with a long, deep one to his lips.

The tray crashes to the floor, scattering dishes and crumbs. They ignore it in favor of pinning Jason’s knees to his chest while Nightwing makes love to him again.

Because Nightwing _knows_ love.

And this is the real deal.

 

* * *

 

He knows that there are many different ways to love. He knows that sex is just one way and that it often isn’t more than just a love of being close to someone else, or a love of pleasure, or a love of being desired.

He knows that sometimes they swirl together inside him, sometimes his signals get crossed, sometimes… sometimes love is confusing.

But with Jason? He feels a sense of clarity he hasn’t felt in… in _so_ long.

He loves Jason in every way. They’re friends, brothers, lovers. So fast, Jason has become a fixture in Nightwing’s life.

Occasionally, he catches himself thinking of the future. The far future. What things will be like with Jason when people live on the moon. Then reality sets in, the reminder that the man he loves is human, mortal, his life a ticking clock, finite and closer to death every moment.

That’s when he starts imagining taking Jason home with him, to live forever in the Hall of Divinity.

“What’s the matter, sugar?”

‘Dick’ blinks at the nurse he’d been laughing with when he slipped out of his head, realizes he’s been frowning, and smiles his trademark brilliant, winning grin. “Nothing. Just chased a stray thought too far.”

“Well, good. Don’t want to get frown lines,” she says, patting his hand as he chuckles at the joke she’s unaware she’s made—as though anything other than his will could ever alter his appearance, “It looks like they’re finishing up. Doctor Todd should be out soon. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Hearing Jason referred to as ‘Doctor’ always makes Nightwing shiver with delight. Doctors are his, Jason is _his._

The nurse, whose name he keeps forgetting, offers him a cherry sucker and he takes it happily. He shoots her a wink as she heads off to deliver the charts she’d come for ten minutes ago, then turns to lean casually against the counter, facing the window into the room where Jason is indeed ending his physical therapy session.

A warm pressure starts in his chest and lazily, comfortably, spreads to his gut and his throat. Sure, Jason looks gorgeous. His army green undershirt stretches across his broad back, slightly darker at the nape of his neck, the dip of his lower back, underarms, and chest where a bit of sweat has seeped through. When he pulls up the front to wipe at his forehead, his toned stomach glistens in the unforgiving fluorescents.

But it’s the flush of exertion, the happy, triumphant grin bearing straight, white teeth, and the twinkling cyan eyes crinkled at the corners that make Nightwing’s breath stick in his throat.

And the way Jason’s eyes _somehow_ manage to get brighter when they find Nightwing’s as he exits the room. The way his smile turns from jovial and happy to sincere and affectionate.

‘Dick’ returns the easy smile past the stick of the sucker trapped between his teeth.

“What’s the verdict, doc? Is my sweetheart gonna make it? I don’t know what I’ll do without him!” He exclaims dramatically, batting his eyes and pressing one hand to his heart and the back of his other to his forehead.

Jason shoves him a little with his shoulder and Nightwing takes the opportunity to tuck his human under his arm and hug him to his side.

“He’s done remarkably well,” the physical therapist says, smiling at them. Then she turns to Jason, “You’ve healed much faster than anticipated. I’m clearing you for active duty. If you can swing it, we’ll have you shipped out tomorrow afternoon.”

She must notice the way Nightwing tenses, the way Jason’s smile wavers.

Frowning, she adds, “I’m sorry. The medical personnel situation is… a bit dire. They’re pretty desperate. I can hold it for a day, give you until Thursday. But I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

That’s not really good enough for Nightwing. He’s only had a couple months with Jason. He’s not at all ready to let him go. At all. But definitely not willing to let him go back to battle; to lose Jason to _War_ , of all things.

“It’s ok, Sasha,” he hears Jason saying and glances at him in surprise, “I can go tomorrow.”

Sometimes, Nightwing thinks he can feel what Jason feels. The disappointment and sadness running through his veins twisted and entwined with… excitement. Anticipation. His mortal lover tries to quell those emotions but they’re there, bubbling under the surface.

Nightwing dismisses the idea, that he and Jason share some kind of bond that gives him insight into Jason’s soul. Too often he has no idea what’s going on with the human, too many misunderstandings, too many things that just confound him.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says when they get in the car, “If they’re that hard up… I can’t be selfish when people are suffering.”

The tense line of his shoulders, his grip tightening and relaxing on the wheel… he feels guilty about his decision. And would likely still feel guilty if he’d chosen to take the day.

“I understand. You care about people. You feel an obligation to help. You’re a lover at heart, not a fighter.”

Dick says it because he knows Jason needs to hear it, but he knows it’s not true. The human wants to stay with him and that he does feel an obligation. But Jason also _wants_ to return to the front.

“People are awful,” Jason complains, “The war is proof of that.”

“People are also amazing. _You’re_ proof of that.”

The rush of color to Jason’s cheeks and the pleased but embarrassed curve of his lips make Nightwing’s heart beat quicker.

They don’t get much sleep that night, choosing to make the most of the few hours they have left together.

After the first couple rounds, Jason is pretty worn out. Nightwing pretends to breath heavily while he admires the rise and fall of that soft human chest, little purple blooms marking where the god made his claim. He’s flushed and sweaty and beautiful and Dick hates that the man must leave him. He just wants to stay here, in this apartment forever. It’s better than heaven.

Nightwing would know.

He sits up on his side, head resting on his hand, gazing at his lover, when an urge he’s never had before hits him hard.

“Hey Jason?” He almost sings, anticipation buzzing through his body.

“Hmm?”

“Would you… well, would you be interested in fucking me?”

His laugh is bright and musical, the way it sounds when it’s genuine; when he’s happy and comfortable. “I don’t know how you recover so fast, babe, but I’m gonna need another minute. Or ten.”

“No, I mean… do you want… do you want to top?”

Jason jerks to his side to face Dick, eyes widened, mouth slightly agape.

“I… I’m not going to pretend I haven’t thought about it,” he says experimentally, “I just… I didn’t think _you’d_ be interested.”

He fidgets a little and glances at his fingers picking at the sheets. Nightwing waits patiently, letting Jason work out what he wants to say.

“That and… I’ve never… done it before. I don’t want to be bad at it.”

Dick almost laughs but manages to reign it in. Jason doesn’t know, couldn’t know because Nightwing has never told him the truth of his divinity, but the God of Love is extremely easy to please. Jason’s love for him and the returned admiration make it _impossible_ for him to be disappointed in whatever they do together.

Instead, Nightwing smiles in that easy way he knows Jason finds reassuring, and promises, “That’s impossible. I’m completely convinced that you’re amazing at everything you try. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve never bottomed for a person before so… we can be each other’s firsts.”

There have been instances—like about his age and only ever having been with Deathstroke—when Dick has had no choice; he’s had to lie. But he tries to avoid it if at all possible. That’s why he phrased it the way he did. It’s a small risk; a weird way to phrase it, but Jason will probably write it off as one of his many eccentricities. And it’s _technically_ true, in his many thousands of years, Nightwing has never been with a human like that. Just a god.

It has never really been a conscious decision, it just happened that way. Now that he’s thinking about it, he wonders if it’s because, on some level, he didn’t find any of them worthy. The thought makes him feel bad. Deathstroke has always been the cynical one, the one who looked at humans as the property of the deities who created them, the one who found people lesser creatures than gods. Nightwing supposes there is the possibility that in his self imposed isolation from the world, there is the chance he’s swayed to some of his husband’s ideology.

But Jason is _unequivocally_ worthy.

“That’s really sweet, Dickie,” Jason is saying, his voice cutting through Nightwing’s musings, “But, what if… what if I can’t make you feel the way you make me feel?”

Nightwing shifts again, moving to straddle Jason’s hips and leans down, capturing his lips for a slow, tender kiss.

There is a sort of ambient power that affects the area immediately surrounding a god when they’re participating in something under their sphere of influence. It makes a thing like battle, where love and will and power and strength are all major players, a heated, messy affair. But in the smaller more contained moments, that natural flow of power can act like an amplifier. Ion’s presence at an AA meeting increases the attendees’ willpower, making it easier to not give into the temptation. Deathstroke’s presence in a war room helps the leaders present make reasonable, strategically solid, efficient decisions.

Nightwing’s presence in a bedroom makes the love palpable. It sits, thick and sweet in the air, taking all those warm, fuzzy emotions and releasing them through the pores. It’s intensely relaxing, intimate, and erotic.

Which explains why even Jason is hard again already, his cock stiffening until Dick can feel it against his backside. He reaches behind him and slides his hand up and down the shaft with long, deliberate, strokes.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Jason,” he finally responds, cupping Jason’s warm, flushed cheek with his free hand, “I’m positive I’ll feel exactly the same way you do. But the worst that can happen, my love, is that we, just, don’t do it again.”

He lines himself up as he’s speaking and begins to slowly sink down when he finishes.

Jason is startled when he feels the tip of his cock press against Dick’s hole. “Wait—Dick, you’re not—“

In the heat of the moment, Nightwing had forgotten that humans need lubrication and maybe a bit of stretching before anal penetration. But in the heat of the moment, he finds he doesn’t have the patience to pretend.

He conjures some at the last second, so that the way feels slicked for Jason’s peace of mind.

“Don’t need it babe,” he breathes across the wet streaks he’s kissed and licked onto the throat arched and bared for him, “Just need you inside me.”

And it _so_ true. He’s never let a human do this before but he _needs_ it with Jason, _needs_ to feel him, to take this leap with him.

He’s _never_ felt like this before. It’s wild. He doesn’t understand it at all.

Jason’s eyes fall shut when he breaches Dick’s entrance, when the head pops past his rim. But Nightwing can’t stop staring at his mortal, watching every exquisite reaction.

Sparing the smallest amount of attention, he keeps his passage tight instead of allowing his body’s natural reaction to open and fit around his partner perfectly. It’s probably not necessary. Jason probably wouldn’t notice the difference. But he wants this to be perfect; to be everything the man expects and more.

The farther Nightwing lowers himself, the deeper Jason goes, the more breathless the human becomes.

When he’s fully seated, he sighs happily. It feels incredible. He knew it would but the reality of it is better than the intellectual knowledge.

Jason’s hands grip his waist, fingers pressing in so hard Nightwing thinks he may have to fake some bruises of his own later, and moans as the god lifts himself, sliding up Jason’s thick cock until just the head remains, clenching and relaxing the muscle in pulses.

He sets a slow, deliberate pace, watching with utter delight at the way Jason tries to control himself; the way his lover’s muscles tense, the way he grits his teeth, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It just won’t due. He wants Jason to let go.

 _Finally_ , after several agonizingly long, teasing moments, Jason makes the most delicious feral, broken sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and gives in.

He surges up, moves his hands from Dick’s hips to wrap one strong arm around his waist and to bury the fingers of the other in his hair. His kiss is desperate and hard. He tugs at Nightwing’s bottom lip, sucks on his tongue, and nibbles at his neck.

But best of all, Jason uses his hold to pull Dick down onto his cock while he thrusts up. He takes control of the pace, steals it, _demands_ it. Sets it much faster, harder.

Nightwing tosses his head back as Jason makes his way down his throat, presses kisses to his shoulders. He wonders briefly if all humans feel like this, if the slide of anyone’s cock inside him would feel this mind-numbingly good. But no. Everything he’s ever done with Jason has been every human encounter rolled into one and then pumped full of Ecstasy. Making love to Jason has always been more comparable to making love to Deathstroke than any fleeting human frolic.

It’s not long before Jason reaches his climax and Nightwing feels the flood of come warm the walls of his already hot passage.  He doesn’t mind. He follows not a moment later, with nothing but the intermittent friction of their stomachs to send him over the edge, splashing sticky white all across both of their chests.

Jason’s lids are heavy over brilliant blue when he finally opens his eyes. His already short breath catches as Nightwing drags a finger through the come on Jason’s overheated flesh and suggestively sucks the digit clean without breaking eye contact.

The wicked grin that spreads across his human’s face gives him butterflies.

He yelps in surprise when Jason flips him onto his back, watches in all-encompassing adoration as Jason licks his torso clean of his release like it’s ambrosia.

“I don’t have a lot of personal data to pull from,” Jason mutters as he falls back into Dick’s arms, exhausted but content, “But your come tastes like milk chocolate and coffee. That can’t be normal.”

Nightwing laughs. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” he mumbles, words slurring slightly as he nuzzles into Dick’s shoulder, “I could drink it from a cup. Way better than normal.”

He chuckles again, hugging Jason closer. The man must be love-drunk. It happens to humans sometimes after a particularly satisfying experience. But Jason would never be able to say any of that without blushing if he weren’t.

“Promise you’ll be here when I come back.”

It’s whispered so low that Nightwing may have missed it if Jason’s lips didn’t brush against his skin.

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never letting you go, my love.”

 

* * *

 

 He would have visited Jason’s dreams regularly even without the explicit invitation to do so.

However, his personal resolution to not pop in for at least two days fails spectacularly that first night his love falls asleep. He decides that resisting the temptation to appear at the front in person with some flimsy explanation is already a testament to his spectacular willpower—he really could give Ion a run for his money—so it’s not really a big deal.

And it’s almost physical, the pain of the separation. It is not just desire. It’s _need_.

They’re in Dick’s apartment where it’s warm and safe, just chatting, when it occurs to Nightwing that the 18-hour period from when Jason left to the moment the god enters the dream, is the longest they’ve been apart since they met.

Suddenly, the thought of eternity without the man becomes supremely unbearable. Unconscionable.

Unacceptable.

He puts off the inevitable confrontation as long as he can, trying to think of some way to make it more palatable.

But then Jason starts praying to Nightwing that Dick will accept the invitation to move to Gotham with him after the war.

Dick obviously can’t live in Gotham permanently. Not just because he already misses Deathstroke terribly, but he refuses to live in his father’s favorite city. But that doesn’t mean they can’t still live together.

He just has to convince his husband.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some top!Jason for ya.
> 
> I know, I was surprised too.

**Author's Note:**

> The ONLY places where Dick lies:
> 
> -When he refers to his ex as a 'person'. Because Deathstroke is a god.
> 
> -When he says he's only been with one person. He's been with plenty of humans and gods over his thousands of years but Deathstroke is the only one who really matters because they're made for each other. Obviously, Dick knows he's fine and isn't going to pass anything on to Jason but can't tell him the real reason. So he, to his mind, bends the truth into something more palatable. 
> 
> -When he covers for accidentally saying 'decades' and 'thirty years' ...He meant what he said the first time but realizes that would sound ridiculous to Jason.
> 
> -When he says things between him and Deathstroke are 'over'. He knows they'll be back together eventually. But, at this point in time, he's thinking about staying with Jason until he dies (which would be SUPER weird for him to do). It's later, after semi making up with Deathstroke that Nightwing decides Jason should... move in with them ;)


End file.
